Are You Okay?
by ringaroundtherollins
Summary: An unexpected visitor, an unstable reunion, a hard decision made. Roman Reigns, Dean Ambrose, and even Seth Rollins deal with the aftermath of Fastlane and the following Raw. Ambreigns with a dash of Ambrollins, Rolleigns, and Ambrolleigns family & brother feelings. One-shot. Sequel to "What Hurts The Most." Lots of language.


Seth Rollins should have been surprised at the lump of wrinkled clothes and bruised muscles curled up on his couch. He jumped initially, passing through his living room that morning and noticing he was not the only living presence in the house, but after realizing the potential circumstances, all he did was shake his head. This was Ambrose. What was the point of even questioning it?

"Morning, Dean."

Dean Ambrose stirred in his sleep, shifting his head right to left. Tired eyes blinked open, then centered on Seth, still dressed in boxer shorts and an oversized T-shirt.

"Mmm," Dean grunted. It could have been the word "morning" but it came out a grouse. He turned his head away from Seth again.

"How'd you get in here?"

"Door was unlocked." A pause, then, "After I used the spare key."

Seth sighed. "Alright. Want some pancakes?"

Dean held a thumb up weakly in the air.

"Pancakes it is. How are you feeling? You okay?"

"Perfect." Dean's voice advocated behind Seth on the walk to the kitchen.

"Right."

"I would have called you, but. Phone kinda died. And I don't mean the battery. I mean it got crushed."

"After Lesnar?"

"Yeah."

"I hate that guy," Seth growled. "Not gonna lie, I was screaming at both of you last night during Raw."

"Why me?" Dean gasped.

"Because you're an idiot."

"Hey now." The voice got louder. Dean was up, moving towards Seth in the kitchen. "That guy's had it coming to him for months now. I thought you'd appreciate it."

"Fighting him and winning is one thing, Dean. It's a whole new level of insanity to actually bait the guy into beating the shit out of you."

"Whatever gets his attention." Dean cracked a grin.

Seth rolled his eyes, and then thought of something. "Wait. When did you get your last night?"

"Caught a flight after that little playdate with Lesnar. Was only an hour or so. Spent more time waiting in the airport then I did on the plane."

Seth broke two eggs into a bowl of pancake batter. "So you didn't stick around till the end?"

"No. Why?" Dean cocked his head. "What happened?"

Seth connected dark eyes with Dean. "Roman got the shit kicked out of him by Hunter."

Dean's face twitched. "He—what?"

"Stephanie announced a match against Sheamus for the main event. Triple H interfered and sent him to hell, Dean. How the hell did you miss that?"

The color drained from Ambrose's face, and he slapped a hand over his mouth. "I-I left, my phone was broken and I-I just thought to come here and...fuck!" Dean snapped, shoving his hand under a plastic plate on the counter and flinging it from the granite. It rattled loudly on the tile floor. Seth seized hold of his arms before he could break something expensive. " _I WILL KILL HUNTER!"_

"Dean, stop," Seth begged him. "There's nothing we can do about it now, okay?"

" _Fuck_ that! I was so focused on my own bullshit that I let my best friend..." Dean pressed fists over his eyes and forced a breath through his teeth. "Call him. Please."

"Okay, I will. Go sit down," Seth urged. "You look like hell, and I can't imagine you feel too good after last night, either."

With a sweep of smoke trailing him, Dean trudged back into the living room.

Seth stirred the pancake batter with one hand and dialed Roman's number with the other. He had been keeping touch with Roman through the night until he'd gone to bed. Last he heard, Roman was getting checked out in an emergency room. Both his boys in the hospital in a single evening. He was exhausted just thinking about it.

Roman answered after four long rings. "Hello." The voice was gravelly.

"Morning, Roman. Are you okay?"

"No. Please tell me you've heard from Dean."

All the hell Roman had been through last night and Dean was still his primary concern. "Yeah. He's here with me."

"The hell?"

"Found him asleep on my couch this morning."

"A long pause. "Okay. Would have been nice for him to run it by me since I spent half my night wondering where the hell he was and if he's okay."

"He's..." Telling Roman Dean was fine would be a blatant lie and Seth was not about that life anymore. "Can you travel? Are you good? I think it's better if you're both here. Unless Lesnar and Hunter installed tracking devices on the two of you, you're safe here with me." Irony, Seth thought, a memory torturing him.

"Yeah. I'll get out there in a while."

"Hey. You're a goddamn trooper, you hear me?"

Roman snorted. "Thanks."

"Just get here. Please. Dean had no idea what happened to you last night, and I'm afraid I might have to bail him out of jail in the next day or two if I leave him unattended."

"Give me a few hours. Watch him till then. Please."

"With pleasure."

* * *

It was early afternoon when the doorbell rang. The pancakes had been eaten in full. Seth had offered Dean medicine and ice for the pain but he refused anything other than revenge. Seth was concerned his neck still needed medical attention but Dean wasn't going anywhere without Roman. That had been made clear from the start.

Seth hushed Kevin's yapping following the bell, then pulled the front door open. "Hey, Ro—"

"Hey, Seth." Roman walked right past him. Seth hadn't time to fully examine the damage to his face. Roman strode towards Dean, who met him halfway in the living room. They captured one another, arms tangling themselves together, bodies crushing against each other in a soreness that was very much worth it. Dean was sobbing on Roman's shoulder. Roman rubbed the back of Dean's head with a strong hand. Seth lingered quietly in the background.

"Are you okay?" Roman asked him.

"Yeah, I'm a lot better now. You?"

"I would slap the hell out of you for what you did last night, but I don't want to break your neck in a different place. What were you thinking, Ambrose?"

"I wasn't," Dean admitted. "Not at all. Which didn't concern me none until I found out what happened to you—"

Roman drew from the hug but he kept his arms secured on Dean's shoulders, dodging the sensitive region of his injured neck. "What is the matter with you? Do you have a death wish?"

Dean frowned. "I can do it, Roman. I can and I fucking will."

Roman closed his eyes. He pressed his lips on Dean's warm forehead. "I can't make you stop, but I wish you knew what hell it was for me to watch him hurt you."

"Talk to me about hell, Roman. I should have been there for you last night."

"Forget about that, okay? Hunter is a dirty player and he'll get what's coming to him."

"Serve. Brock Lesnar is a dirty player and _he'll_ get what's coming to _him_."

Roman sighed. "Can you just...I'm all for supporting you in matches, but why do you crave the pain? Are you punishing yourself for something you feel you deserve? A crime? Self-loathing? Are you just mad?"

"Yes."

Roman shook his head. "I don't get you."

"Yet you choose to stick around." Dean grinned. Roman caved to his quirks.

"I always will." He kissed Dean's forehead again, lips lingering longer on the heated skin.

A blade sliced through Seth's heart at the words. These two were so good. Fuck, had he messed up big time with them...the past would haunt him till his last days, no matter what he did to reprimand his actions.

"The point is, you both suffered last night, but you're here now," Seth said. He was feeling selfish, wanting to keep them around. "You're here, you're together, you're not fighting anymore. You're safe. Might not be feeling 100%, but that'll change."

"You're not just my Fastlane rival," Roman told Dean. "You're my best friend. You're my future if that's what you want."

"Always, baby." Dean leaned against Roman.

Seth pressed his lips together. How well did he fit into this equation? How could he still miss them so much even with both of them standing right in front of him? "I, uh, I made pancakes for breakfast, Roman. There still some batter left if you want me to make you a couple."

"Sounds good," Roman said. "I'll help."

"Hey, Ro," Dean called to him in the walk back to the kitchen. "Listen. About Sunday—"

Roman raised a hand, stopping the topic in its path. "Don't. It's over."

"I meant about afterwards. Leaving you there to celebrate the victory alone. It wasn't against you. I was pissed, sure. Mostly at Lesnar."

"I get it. You did what you had to do."

Seth had screamed aloud when Ambrose had invited a steel chair into the ring. The flashbacks, the terror, witnessing it an an outsider unprepared for the absolute worst... "I hated it," Seth said. He hadn't meant to say it aloud, but now Roman and Dean were looking at him, waiting for an explanation.

"Chairs. Nightmares. I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh yeah, that hurt," Roman said, laughing softly. "I can still feel it in my back."

"Whatever it takes, right?" Dean asked.

How was their relationship so damn good? How had the boys made it through this much? Seth admired them as much as he envied them. He was jealous, so jealous, they were continuing to live his dream and meanwhile he was stuck alone...

 _I suck as a person_.

"Seth, tell me you'll be at WrestleMania," Dean said. He took a seat at the dining room table.

"Probably not," Seth moaned. "Just not ready to come back yet."

"I mean for us."

Seth looked from Roman to Dean and back again. Roman, standing beside him, assisting with the pancakes, nodded.

"I would love to see you there," Roman said. "We both would."

"Just…on the sidelines? Just to support you?"

"Look," Ambrose said, "it sucks ass you can't be in a match, but it's better to see everything with your own eyes than through a TV, right?"

"I don't know. It depends on the healing process and everything." _And whether or not I'll get stomped by anyone there. Match or not._

"We'll protect you, if that's your concern," Roman said, touching his shoulder.

Seth smiled a small smile. "I don't think the world is ready for a Shield reunion. Besides, they still hate me."

"Who?"

"Everybody."

Roman tried to protest but Dean blurted, "Who cares? They're all crazy, those wrestling fans." He popped a blueberry from the bowl into his mouth. "We bring the best to them week by week, but we deserve to be happy, too. We work way too hard to stand for any outside crap."

"You're both tired and emotional," Seth said. He sucked a breath in. "Think on it. I can't go back yet. I'm not even ready, physically or mentally."

Roman transferred the pancakes from the pan to a glass plate. "Then hide in the background. Wear a Cena shirt so nobody recognizes you."

Seth laughed.

Roman and Seth sat with Dean at the table. "I'm getting that WWE world heavyweight champion back at WrestleMania, and the first two people I want to hug when I do it is you and Dean."

Seth shook his head. Acceptance…he was actually receiving acceptance...

"And I don't have a title on the line, so I don't have anything to lose against Lesnar," Dean said. "Once I beat the hell out of him, I wanna go out for drinks with my boys."

"You guys mean it," Seth said, thinking out loud. "You actually want me there."

"Of course we do," Dean said. "Everything is different now. The times, they are a-changing. Different shit is at stake and it's a pain in the ass to keep moping about the past."

Seth threw the line out, ready for heartache. "Does this mean you guys forgive me? Both of you?"

Roman and Dean traded looks over the table.

"I guess it does," Dean said, voice tender. "I know now what it means to hurt the one you love because you're in a 'whatever it takes' mentality. It hurts like a bitch and I pray I'm never put in that situation ever again. If Roman can forgive me for busting him up with a steel chair, I know I can forgive you for what you did."

Seth couldn't believe it. "I did more than that. So much more. So much worse. Your friendship with Roman remained intact after your fights, even when the world said it wouldn't. I don't deserve—"

"Shut the hell up. Yes, you do."

"Dean—"

"I forgive you, Rollins. Now stop. I was in your place and now I'm out of it. Roman is my best friend and I wouldn't trade him for the world. I hurt him, it fucked me up on the inside, and now I don't wanna think about it anymore. I want to think about is how badly Lesnar is going to bleed once I get my hands on him again. It's all about the future, kid."

"Seth, you made some terrible decisions before, and you lost everything," Roman said. "I've also been where you are. Where you _were_ , I should say. I can't say you're the same sniveling weasel you morphed into last year. But I've been where you were, meaning I thought I had the world in my hands…and I lost it. But I'm getting it back. I'm not giving up. Not on the title belt, and not on Dean. _This_ guy, he's my world."

"Roman means more to me than that," Dean said. "That's how we made it through. And that's why, here and now, Rollins, I forgive you. _You_ mean more to me than that. I think in a way, you always did."

Seth couldn't help but laugh at his own pathetic reaction. His eyes singed with tears, and one blink pushed them down his cheeks. "Dammit. _Dammit_."

"Are you okay?" Roman asked.

"Just got a bad case of emotions going on."

"Get over here and hug me," Dean demanded.

Seth did so. He lifted from the chair and moved to close Dean in his arms. Roman came up behind both of them, one arm around each brother.

"I love you," Roman said, looking at Dean.

"I love you too, Roman," Dean answered.

Perhaps someday Seth could say the words to them again and mean it. Hear them and know things were right again. Not yet, not soon, but someday. This was a step in the right direction. The future was brighter than ever. Seth Rollins would return in his time and as far as he believed—and oh, how they all believed—Roman and Dean were still family. Here to stay.

They were okay.


End file.
